Fatigue
by kepulver
Summary: [G1] At a temporary base in Generistan, Starscream and Onslaught discuss the difficulties in fighting humans. Written for 28 memes challenge, Exhausted Combaticons. Prequel of sorts to Shambleau, Reunited and Clean Up


-1**Author's note: **Takes place in the divergent universe that most of my Transformers stories do. Any resemblance between Generistan and Afghanistan is purely cosmetic. Historical inaccuracies should be blamed on the Sunbow Effect ("No, really, this desert area is Kentucky, we swear!").

I do not own the Transformers. Has/Tak does.

**Fatigue**

"Behold! The conquering heroes!" Starscream sneered as he transformed, landing half a beat ahead of Skywarp and Thundercracker. The three of them strolled into the Combaticon camp nestled on the Generistan plains.

"Don't all rush to thank us at once," Skywarp said with a snicker. "Take your time, boys! We know it's hard for you groundpounders to use the big words."

Thundercracker grunted, looking at the base camp with distaste before turning his attention to Onslaught. The Combaticon leader sat on a packing crate, his armor was dented in several places and two of the tires on his left leg had been reduced to shreds of rubber. "What hit you guys? The Dinobots?"

"Humans," Starscream scoffed. "The big, bad Combaticons called for help against a pack of humans!"

Onslaught stood, moving slowly and deliberately as if trying to hide the effort it took to move. "We're glad you finally arrived," he said, voice neutral as he surveyed the Seekers. "I take it your arrival means supplies are on the their way?"

"Yes, yes." Starscream waved a dismissive hand at Onslaught, his lips twisting in a smirk. "Blast Off will be landing soon. Try not to fall over before then, will you?"

Onslaught nodded. The sight of the gestalt commander forcing himself to stand fully upright, despite his injuries and obvious fatigue, made Thundercracker's joints ache in sympathy.

Behind Onslaught, the other three Combaticons weren't even making a pretense of posturing for the Seekers. Brawl was in tank mode, one set of treads missing -- as far as Thundercracker could tell, it looked like it had been wrenched free. His main turret gun was pointed as low as it could go. Swindle leaned against him, arms crossed and serving as a pillow as he rested his head. Vortex sat behind a stack of sandbags, rotors turning with the arid breeze as he slumped over a heavy laser rifle.

"Pathetic," Starscream said. "Truly pathetic, Onslaught. A simple mission: take this ground and hold it and your troops are this worn out? Tell me, what would happen in a real fight?"

"This _was_ a real fight," Onslaught said, voice showing anger for the first time.

Even Onslaught's anger was tired-sounding, reminding Thundercracker of a trainer explaining something to a dimwitted student.

"The local humans are some of the fiercest fighters we've ever encountered," Onslaught said. "They have no fear of Transformers. Some of their techniques we would do well to imitate."

Thundercracker turned his attention back to Onslaught, his optics glowing briefly with interest. Though still a relative newcomer with a rather shaky standing within the Empire, Onslaught was developing a reputation for quickly adjusting to Terrestrial conditions.

"Don't be absurd!" Starscream said. "Even for humans, the locals here are little better than primitives! I see nothing to be learned from them."

"You are a scientist, not a soldier," Onslaught said with the same weary patience.

"I've prepared a report on my findings. I'll be sending it back to Megatron with Blast Off. I'm confident he'll see the wisdom in it."

"I tell you there is no _need!_" Starscream's voice crackled with petulant rage. "We have killed the humans for you! Those who aren't dead have run away! All you need to concern yourself with is staying at this base camp and preparing for the Constructicons' arrival, is that clear?"

"They'll be back," Onslaught said, his voice ringing with hollow certainty. "These people have been fighting opponents bigger, stronger and better armed than themselves for centuries. They're about as likely to give up because of the Great Air Commander Starscream as Optimus Prime is to kill himself after losing a video game!"

"Bah!" Starscream turned away from Onslaught. "Ridiculous! You're losing your mind, Onslaught. You should talk to Scrapper, I think some of your data tracks have decayed!"

There was a _crack_ and then a second _crack_ and Starscream's canopy was suddenly a mass of spider webs. "What's that? Who's throwing stones?"

"Snipers!" Onslaught roared. "Vortex! Lock on to his position! He's checking range for the tricursed Stingers! Swindle, Cover our left flank! Brawl, prepare to fire on my mark!"

As exhausted as the Combaticons had been, they came to life at Onslaught's orders and moving with a brutal efficiency. Onslaught paused long enough to look at Starscream. "I suggest you get airborne," he said. "These primitive humans are very good at taking down jets -- particularly jets stupid enough to be standing around in clusters on the ground."

Starscream and Skywarp didn't need to be told twice. Neither did Thundercracker for that matter. The last thing he heard as he transformed and took off for the closest cloud cover was Onslaught radioing Blast Off, instructing him to abort the supply run.


End file.
